


To hope (and brighter days)

by wootwootwoot



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 'cause, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, Dysphoria, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FTM, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Pride, Protective Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Sad GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Self-Hatred, This is just projecting, Trans GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Venting in the form of a fic, Why?, Will take down if it makes CC uncomfortable, his parents are transphobic, pog - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28998627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wootwootwoot/pseuds/wootwootwoot
Summary: A couple of comments from his friends, closely followed by an uncomfortable encounter with his parents send George spiraling down, setting him on the path of finally coming out to his friends and the internet.or: stealth trans man George gets a couple of very bad days and is big sad
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), platonic - Relationship
Comments: 73
Kudos: 273





	1. Bad days

**Author's Note:**

> TW// transphobia, child abuse (only one scene, might be mentioned later though)
> 
> this kinda do be sad though

George hunched over in his chair, avoiding his own reflection in his second monitor. He knew he had to stream today but he wanted nothing more than to put his biggest hoodie on and lay in bed all day. But he couldn't, he already skipped yesterday’s lore events on the server under the pretense of being asleep, it wouldn't work twice in a row. 

There was an itchiness behind his skin, discomfort crawling under the surface. For the past couple of days his eyes caught on to every flaw on his body, the ways his hips were too large, too _feminine_ , his shoulders not broad enough, he wasn't tall enough, he didn't look like a _real_ man. 

His fingernails dragged across his scalp painfully, barely grounding him. 

He thought he was over it, over the dysphoria, he had spent the past 5 years on T, got a top surgery as soon as he had turned 20 and had the money for it, not a single person accidentally misgendered him these days anymore. 

It was a offhand comment from Sapnap that had sent him spiraling down, something pretty innocent, he couldn't even remember the exact wording of it, something along the line of him having a girly scream after one of his screeches, followed up soon after by mockingly calling him a lady when he giggled, Dream continuing the joke, both men not knowing how much these particular words affected him.

Deep down he knew he couldn't blame his friends, it was George's own fault for never telling them, he hadn't been able to bring himself to come out to them when he met them, voice deep enough to pass for a young cis man then, even if his appearance was not quite passing, and by the time he had shown his face to them, and to the world, he looked pretty much like any other guy, although slightly younger, the curse (or blessing) of being a trans man. 

The comfort it brought him to think that most people these days never even thought of him as anything else than a man was addicting, but it also meant that people didn’t know what kind of comments got under his skin, making him doubt himself.

His mind was his own greatest enemy these days.

He choked off a sob, he needed to stop crying, he was supposed to stream in less than two hours and he couldn’t afford to wreck his voice and his appearance, people would notice. The thought of having thousands of eyes trained on him today made him slightly nauseous, but not using a face cam would elicit too many questions, and he didn’t want to unnecessarily worry people.

The phone sitting on the corner of his desk rang, Quackity’s profile picture staring back at him. Wasn’t the man streaming?

George declined, the phone immediately ringing again. He swiped across the screen once more, the device going dark for barely a second before lighting up with an incoming call yet again. He sighed angrily, what the fuck did Quackity need him so bad for?

He quickly typed out the man’s name in the twitch search bar, clicking on his stream. He could see him typing on his phone, probably trying to call him again, while Karl talked to Sapnap in the background.

“Dude, he’s probably sleeping, he’s not gonna answer, just give up it’s fine we can ask someone else.” Sapnap spoke up.

Quackity looked up, briefly considering following the Texan’s advice before dismissing it.

“No, it’s not ringing at all, he’s declining my calls, which means he’s awake!”

George closed the stream, running a hand through his hair, ignoring the buzzing of his phone once again, annoyance filling him, didn’t the man know when to stop?

He received a barrage of texts in quick succession, Quackity was just sending him _‘ANSWER’_ , over and over again.

His phone rang with a facetime call from Quackity, _again_. Knowing the other man wouldn’t give up until he got an answer, George reluctantly accepted the call, turning off the camera.

“What?” George bit off, showing his annoyance, he winced at how scratchy his voice sounded, he was clearly dehydrated from all the crying he had been doing recently.

“Ohhh Georgie chill, you’re on your period or something?” Quackity replied teasingly, taken aback by his hostility.

George clenched his fist, nails digging deeply into his palm.

“Fuck off, stop calling me.” He said, not caring about the fact that he swore on the man’s stream. 

He paused for a second, Quackity completely stunned and silent on the other side of the phone.

“ _Please_.” He added, somewhat desperately, before hanging up, tossing the phone on his bed, letting himself collapse on top of his desk.

He unclenched his fist, tracing the small crescents left behind on his palm where his nails had been.

What had he said about not worrying people unnecessarily?

Fans were probably freaking out right now, he wasn’t one to ever get angry on stream, and he had just told his friend who only wanted to poke some fun at him to fuck off.

He opened Twitter on his computer, refreshing his timeline, only to grimace when he saw he was the subject of most of the fan accounts’ recent tweets.

_‘Yo what’s wrong with George? /gen’_

_‘Is it just me or did he literally sound like he was crying?’_

_‘Quackity went too far honestly, he should have stopped calling when he saw George kept declining his calls /srs’_

_‘That little “please” legit broke my heart, hope he’s okay…’_

He promptly closed the tab, powering down his computer, not wanting to see any more pitying tweets about him. He curled up in his chair, bringing his knees up to his chest, exhaling shakily. He hated feeling like this, so _wrong_.

Bringing a hand to his face he tried to feel for the slight stubble that sometimes appeared on his chin, the closest thing he could ever get to growing a full beard, but he had shaved at the beginning of the week, and only smooth skin met his fingertips. Like a _girl_.

He remembered the taunting words of his classmates when he had come out, back in high school, he liked to think that kids were more accepting these days but he didn’t know if that was really true or wishful thinking.

He traced the small scar sitting right below his right eye, on his cheekbone, an eternal reminder to never trust. Trusting meant letting your guard down, and letting your guard down always meant getting hurt in the end. 

After what felt like hours of staring into to space, reminiscing, but was probably a little bit closer to an hour, he gathered the courage to stretch out, rising up from his chair, flinching at the sharp ache in his neck and back, probably the consequence of being folded over for so long.

He needed to get dressed, get his streaming setup ready, and most importantly figure out what he wanted to stream, he was dead set on doing a solo stream, not wanting the awkward presence of his friends tip-toeing around him after his earlier outburst, but he didn’t know what to do exactly.

Heading to his wardrobe he pulled out various hoodies, settling on his most oversized one, a dark blue one that he liked to hide behind on bad days. He knew the late June heat didn’t really lend itself well to wearing such warm clothes but he couldn't bring himself to just wear a t-shirt today. Despite his flat chest he felt like people would comment on his frail shoulders, or the lack of muscle definition on his arms, and if they didn’t comment on it George would see himself on his camera feedback and wouldn’t be able to think about anything else.

He quickly put his outfit on, picking up his phone, dozens of notifications staring back at him. Quackity had messaged him multiple times apologizing and asking him if he was alright, Sapnap and Karl had similarly messaged him, wondering if he was okay. Dream had tried to call him twice before giving up, leaving him a text simply saying _‘call me back when you have some time, love you’_.

He replied to Quackity first: _‘Sorry, didn’t mean to snap at you, hope we’re okay’_ , getting an enthusiastic response from the younger man almost instantly, relief filling him. He sent almost identical replies to Sapnap and Karl, too mentally exhausted to even think of what he wanted to say. Finally, he opened his chat with Dream, telling him he would call him later, cringing at the thought that the man had obviously heard about his little temper tantrum despite not being on Quackity’s stream.

He put his phone down and tweeted about his live, most of the replies overwhelmingly positive, his eyes stopping on the ones calling him boring a little bit longer than usual today, but ultimately dismissing them, words on the internet meant nothing compared to some of the things he went through when he had first come out, this couldn’t hurt him.

He stared at the trans pride flag sitting on the other side of his monitor, behind the camera, where no one but him could see it. 

What an ironic thing to do, pretending to be loud, be proud by displaying it on his wall but never telling anyone? What a joke he was.

* * *

He had been streaming for a little bit over an hour, ignoring or deflecting any donos related to his previous outburst this afternoon, focusing on his admittedly pretty miserable speedrunning attempts.

“George, I want to come out to my family but I don't think they will be supportive, any advice?” He read from the donation he just received.

He took a moment to think about it, not wanting to give bad advice or sound like he was giving an answer that was a little bit too much based on his own experiences.

“Um... uh, I think it’s important to be your true self but you should always prioritize being safe, so be careful” His eyes flickered to the flag on the wall in front of him, behind the monitor, and he mindlessly brushed his finger against the faint scar on his face.

“Don’t do anything that could get you kicked out before you have the means to support yourself, and test the waters I guess? Like discreetly check what their opinions on things are?” He fumbled awkwardly towards the end, realizing he had definitely made it too personal.

Most of the chat seemed surprised at how seriously he took the question, praising him for the advice. He changed the subject pretty quickly, abandoning his current speedrunning attempt and starting a new survival world, saying it took too long to find a nether fortress in the previous one.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, glancing at his reflection in his second monitor, he had gotten plenty of comments about how tired he looked since the beginning of the stream and he couldn’t deny he looked like shit. He had dark eyebags beneath his eyes, probably due to the past few nights of restless sleep he had gotten, his hair was starting to be too long and he kept running his hand through it to try and get it away from his peripheral vision, messing it up even more.

He yawned, wearily reading the chat.

“I think I’m done for today Chat, I can’t see straight anymore honestly” he paused, reading the disappointed replies in his chat, thanking a couple of donators, “I know it was a pretty short stream but I would have felt bad about not streaming at all, I’m sorry.”

He mustered one last smile to the camera, waving, before he ended the stream, removing his headset and letting it clatter on his desk.

He was somewhat hungry but his tiredness took over everything else, he shuffled towards his bed, tossing his hoodie to the side before getting under the blanket and allowing sleep to drag him under for a well deserved couple hours of rest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayo, i know he's not trans, this is just projecting, pog
> 
> wish there was some more FTM trans representation in CCs though!


	2. Unpleasant surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as he thought his week couldn't get worse, George's parents decide to pay him a visit, he is definitely not delighted to see them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// child abuse, not pog

George woke up slowly, blinking against the harsh light filtering from the curtains. He patted around him, finally finding his phone on his bedside table, tapping a couple of times on the screen to check the time: 7:50am, it was indecently early but he crashed at the beginning of the evening yesterday so it made sense.

He groaned softly when he saw Dream had sent him a couple of texts, and had even tried to call him once, he completely forgot about his promise to call him the day before, he typed a quick apology explaining he went to sleep and simply forgot to call him back. He felt slightly guilty, it was obvious the younger man was worried about him and George had pretty much brushed him off.

Swinging his legs off the side of the bed, he stood up, quickly realizing he was starving, pizza was a decent breakfast right?

He headed to his kitchen, his cat weaving between his legs as he walked. He took the pizza out of the freezer, cautious not to step on the curious feline.

“Calm down, I’ll get you your breakfast too, baby.” He picked the cat up, the animal meowing in protest before settling comfortably in his arms, purring.

He petted him for a couple of seconds before letting him down on the counter, out of the way so he could get both of their meals ready. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out while pouring the cat’s food in his designated bowl. Dream had replied to him, asking if he could call him and George hesitantly agreed. He put his pizza in the oven and sat down at his kitchen table, waiting for the other’s call.

His mind raced, was Dream going to confront him about his off-behavior the day before? He wouldn’t even know what to tell the other man-

Dream’s profile picture appeared on the screen, the soft buzz of an incoming call snapping him out of his musing, he reluctantly swiped across the screen, accepting the call.

“Hey George.” Dream sounded somewhat sleepy, and George realized it was around 3am for the other man, he was probably about to go to sleep before George had replied.

“Hey, you’re not sleeping?”

“No, soon though, you’re awake awfully early, it’s not really like you.”

George hummed thoughtfully “I guess, I was tired so I went to bed early.”

“Yeah, you looked like a walking corpse on your stream yesterday.”

“Wow, thanks, tell me something I don’t know.” George replied drily, making Dream chuckle quietly.

The oven biped, and George stood up, leaving the phone on the table.

“Give me a second!”

He carefully removed the pizza from the oven, transferring it to a plate, dividing it into slices before settling back down.

“Okay I’m back, I’m back!”

He heard Dream shuffle on the other side, he had probably laid down while waiting for him to come back.

“What were you doing?”

“Taking my pizza out of the oven.”

Dream laughed disbelievingly. “Pizza at 8am?”

“A perfectly reasonable choice!”

“Yeah perfectly reasonable for a 10 year old kid his parents left alone for the first time.” Dream teased.

George scoffed in response, shovelling pizza into his mouth, not dignifying him with an answer.

“Anyways, I was gonna ask if you were okay, you’ve seemed a bit out of it for the past few days…”

“I’m fine”, he hesitated, pondering what answer could reassure Dream the most, “I’ve just not been sleeping well... Nothing important.”

It was technically the truth, he hadn’t been getting an adequate amount of sleep recently, but it was a consequence rather than a cause of what was really bothering him.

Dream sighed. George’s body tensed in response, worried that the man might be annoyed at him, or might finally be done with putting up with him and his mood swings.

“Are you sure?” Dream asked, his voice soft, giving him another chance to explain himself.

But George didn’t take it.

“I’m sure.” His reply was final, he wouldn’t allow to be pushed more on the subject and Dream knew it.

“Okay, wanna stream tomorrow ? Just you, me and Sapnap, like old times.”

George grinned at the abrupt change of subject and the unnecessary nostalgia.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Afternoon for us so it’s evening for you? That way you won’t fuck up your sleep schedule even more.”

“Sounds good to me.” And it did, as much as the jokes from a couple days earlier hurt him, George always craved the reassuring presence of his friends, comforting voices in his headphones when his own doubts became too loud.

“Okay well, I’m gonna sleep now, talk to you soon.” The words were muffled, and George could easily imagine Dream, face mushed against his pillow, eyes already closed.

“Yeah, see ya, good night.”

He hung up, feeling a bit lighter. 

* * *

He laughed, chasing Sapnap around, the other man running away.

“Stop fighting! Sapnap! George! Stop it!” Dream called out uselessly, his two friends continuing to bicker until George finally killed Sapnap, yelling victoriously, turning to read his chat.

“Ah! You suck, Sapnap!” He mocked, jumping around, waiting for the younger man to respawn, thanking a couple of donators.

“What do you mean? You’re so stupid you have netherite armor, I had iron!”

“So what, you’re still de-” he paused, looking away from his screen, removing his headset. “Wait a second, I think someone is knocking on my door.”

He rose up from his chair, not hearing his friends’ questions, reassuring the chat he would be back in a second. He padded into the living room, opening the door slowly, peering curiously outside. He immediately flinched back, his stomach dropping when he saw the smiling faces of his parents staring back at him.

“Hi?” He hated how shaky his voice sounded, the fact that they still terrified him years after he moved out made him hate himself a little bit more.

“Hi darling, we were in the area and thought we’d come visit you, isn’t that right, love?” His mother said, turning towards her husband at the end, the man grumbling in response, looking George up and down critically.

“I-I’m working right now…”

“Don’t lie now, playing video games is not work, it’s a hobby.” His father snapped, the tightly controlled ire in his voice sending a spike of fear rushing through George’s.

His mother placed a hand on the older man’s forearm, placating him for a moment.

“I’m in the middle of something, I can’t just go.” George maintained, putting a hand on the back of the half-closed door, partly so his parents couldn’t come barreling in but also to steady himself. He felt faint.

“ _George._ ”

Displeasure was apparent in his voice, it was a warning, George knew it from the way his father said his name, loudly spitting it out like an insult, making him vaguely sick, so far from the way his friends called him.

George stepped aside, letting the door swing open, his father walking in, looking satisfied.

“Could you wait for me here, I'll be back in a minute.”

He watched as they came in, his mother nodding minutely. He rushed back to his bedroom, which also served as his office, closing the door softly behind him.

He tugged the headphones back on, slightly out of breath.

“I need to go.” He glanced at himself on his second monitor, he looked pale, anxious, it was like staring back at his younger self, who couldn’t stand to look at himself in the bathroom mirror. He blinked, shattering the illusion.

“What? What do you mean?” Sapnap spoke up, sounding confused.

“George? You okay?” Dream chimed in, and George knew the other must have his stream open, probably looking at him, so he straightened up, getting out of the camera frame, trying to hide away from curious eyes.

“I have to go.” He simply repeated, pressing the end button of his stream right as his Dad opened his door, looking annoyed.

He disconnected from the call, ignoring the worried objections of the two other men, leaving his headset on the desk and turning his computer off.

“Sorry.”

* * *

It hadn’t even gone that badly, the two had stayed for about an hour, George had offered them tea and they had settled in his living room, George sitting stiffly in his chair, deeply uncomfortable. They had bounced back and forth between inane conversation topics, his mother bringing them back to a more neutral path each time George or his father strayed into controversial themes, like streaming.

His mother had touched his hair regretfully as she had left. 

“I’m still sad you had to go and cut it off, you had such beautiful hair.” 

It made George want to scream, he hadn’t had long hair since he came out to them at 16 and he knew perfectly well what she implied when she talked to him about all the things she “missed” about him.

He knew they both hated everything he had become, even if his mother didn’t express it explicitly. He was so far from the idealized image they kept of their young _‘daughter’_.

And oh, how he _despised_ that word now, it embodied so many years of suffering, silent tears and deafening screaming matches, until that fateful day, right before George had turned 18 :

_George and his father had once again been arguing, the older man stubbornly refusing to address him by his chosen name._

_“I’m a boy, why can’t you see that? Why can’t you listen to me for once in your fucking life?” George had screamed, tears streaming down his face._

_His father had lashed out, tightly grabbing him by the front of his t-shirt, bringing him close._

_“Yeah? Well you can’t hit girls, but if you want to be a man so bad then I guess you can take it, uh?” and he had violently pushed the young teen away, a cruel smirk etched on his face._

_George had stumbled back, not quite ready to be thrown away by a man twice his size, his face hitting the corner of the kitchen counter._

_His mother had finally intervened when she saw the blood pouring down his face, putting an end to the fight. George’s father had silently driven him to the hospital, face scrunched up in what George thought might be shame, as he explained to the nurses that the teen simply had a bad fall, George nodding along._

His father never physically attacked him again after that, and had even called him “George” for the first time a couple days later, a token of peace George had gladly accepted, eager for any smidge of affirmation he could get. But the tension between the two had never lessened over the years. Between his moments of anger, George could see the flashes of guilt on the man’s face every time he saw him, never quite looking at him in the eye, always glancing at the scar across his cheekbone, making him wonder if he would have ever heard the name “George” come out of his father’s mouth if the incident hadn’t happened.

He dismissed the somber memory, putting the mugs away and tidying up the living room, trying to erase the marks of his parents’ presence.

After half an hour of vigorous scrubbing, hands reddened by the burning hot water he had used to clean the dishes, he finally let himself break down in the comfort of his bedroom, the heavy silence only broken by pitiful hiccups he couldn’t help but let escape, ignoring the phone that laid forgotten on his desk, next to his keyboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah that's kinda sad bruv
> 
> swear its gonna have a happy ending though, eventually


	3. Hey alexa, what's pride?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George takes a break, he stumbles upon something he wasn't expecting, maybe giving him a new outlook on his life

George head pounded, his nose was stuffed, and him sniffling pathetically didn’t help the problem at all, he knew he looked like an absolute mess right now but he couldn't bring himself to care. He just wanted to disappear, bury himself under his blanket and never talk to anyone ever again.

His room had turned dark, time passing and the sun setting without him noticing. He stumbled out of bed, towards his bathroom, wincing at his own reflection, his eyes were red and puffy, his hair sticking up randomly where his hands had gripped it too tightly.

Was he cursed to be stuck in an endless loop of breakdowns interspersed by a couple of hours of fun and forgetting, until he was ultimately brought back down?

He splashed cold water on his face, trying to tame the burning behind his eyelids, headache still throbbing at his temple, almost thankful for the sharp steady pain grounding him. He drank some water, soothing his parched throat, and picked up a couple tablets of ibuprofen sitting on the corner of the bathroom counter, swallowing them quickly.

He took a few seconds to simply breathe deeply, thinking about what he was going to do next. Maybe he needed a break, from everything, everything online at least. He could leave his online life for a while, going to explore the city a little bit, maybe taking a day trip to some random town, and just... breathe, away from prying eyes, away from his parents, away from his friends.

Making his way back to his bedroom he looked for his phone sitting on his desk, it was next to the glass of apple juice he had forgotten about earlier, when his parents had interrupted his evening stream. He picked both up, placing the half-empty glass on his nightstand and sitting back on his bed, turning the pillow over when he noticed the wet spots his tears had left behind.

He tapped on the screen, turning the phone on, dozens of notifications from his worried friends staring back at him, strangely reminding him of the similar situation he had been in not too long ago, after he had snapped at Quackity when the man kept calling him on his stream.

He sighed.

He replied to all of the texts that he was fine and that nothing important had happened, not bothering to check who had sent them, shutting down any further questions that almost immediately came from his friends. He opened Twitter next, as a way to distract himself maybe, still not sure on how to announce his short hiatus online and whether it would upset people.

He scrolled through dozens of tweets about him, not bothering to read them, cringing when he saw clips from his earlier stream. He stopped to watch one, just to check what people had seen. Clicking hesitantly, he unmuted the video and, with bated breaths, watched himself coming back into the camera frame, face pale, looking anxious and jittery, his friends and people watching not knowing his parents, waiting a couple of rooms away for him to come back, were the reason behind his sudden discomfort. The voices of Dream and Sapnap, who had been asking him questions and if he was okay, registered in his ears. He hadn’t heard them asking him anything at the time. The clip ended with him shutting down his stream, thankfully cutting out before his father had burst into his office, fed up with waiting for George. 

Well, great.

 _‘Going offline for a bit, there’s a couple of things I have to deal with, sorry everyone.’_ He typed on a new tweet draft, thumb hovering over the ‘send tweet’ button on the screen, would this elicit too many questions? What did he even need to deal with?

He deleted part of his tweet: _‘Going offline for a little bit, sorry’_. was left.

Was that better? Probably not, but he wasn’t about to write a whole essay just to announce he was taking a break. He sent out the tweet, replying to a random person asking him _‘How long?_ ’ with _‘one week?_ ’, and to another asking ‘ _Completely (stream + socials)?_ ’ with a simple _‘yes’_. 

Deeming he had made himself clear enough, he put his phone on airplane mode and silent, leaving it behind on his bed, while he moved to his living room, ordering a meal on Uber Eat and settling in front of his TV, determined to find a show to binge watch to shut his brain up for the next couple of hours, maybe even days.

* * *

George didn’t know what time it was, but the sun was peeking over the horizon, painting his living room in soft muted colors. He yawned, turning off his TV after hours of mindlessly watching shows. He dragged himself to his bedroom, knowing that with how tired he was he should have no trouble falling asleep.

He pushed the phone resting on his bed to the ground, not bothering to check it for messages, determined to stick by his promise to stay offline, the device landing with a dull thud on the carpeted floor.

He laid down, eyes landing on the pride flag sitting on the wall opposite him, right behind his streaming setup. A sudden burst of energy sparked through him and he got out of bed, walking up to the wall, carefully removing the flag, taking the tacks holding it up out of the plaster. He gathered the flag in his arms, shuffling back to the other side of the room, stepping unto his bed, holding the wall for support. With trembling arms, the tired man hung the flag right above the headboard of the bed, stepping away for a second, checking it looked good enough and, when he considered it decent, he sat back down, letting himself imagine for a second how it would look for him to stream like this, with the flag in the background, no green screen, no hiding.

It would be good, he nodded decidedly to himself. When he’d come back he would do it... he _should_ do it, for the trans kids watching at least. He knew how overjoyed he would have been when he was a teenager if he had found out a successful person he looked up to was also trans. 

He just needed to find the courage to change the image everyone had of him, _forever_. You can’t remove anything from the Internet once it’s out there.

He closed his eyes, trying to erase from his mind the idea of his friends looking at him with disgust or making fun of him after learning the news, even though he knew deep down they weren’t idiots and would be nothing but supportive. He couldn’t help but doubt, it was ingrained in his very nature at this point.

 _Fuck_ . _No more thinking._

He tossed and turned in his bed for about an hour before finally drifting away into dreamless sleep.

* * *

A week of radio silence passed in a blink, George spent the majority of it watching TV shows and aimlessly walking around London, discovering parts of the city he never knew existed. His phone had died after a day of not charging it, but he couldn't care less, leaving it on the floor of his bedroom. Being disconnected from everything had done good for him, it had allowed him to think about himself, his career, his relationships in depth.

He would give himself one last day and then he would come back and stop selfishly staying away from his responsibilities and his friends, who, despite trying to avoid thinking about it, he missed terribly.

Finally picking his phone from the ground he plugged it in, he would need it soon. It turned on, but no notification appeared on his screen, the little icon signifying it was in airplane mode still active in the corner of his screen, blocking out any attempts at contacting him, just as he wanted. 

He showered, ate breakfast and lazed around for most of the morning, until restless energy got to him. Choosing a simple outfit from his closet, a white shirt and black jeans, he quickly dressed himself up, deciding on taking a last long peaceful walk out in London. After a second of hesitation he pocketed his phone too, just in case.

The early July sun pleasantly shone on the bare skin of his arms, as he strolled outside, walking towards the center of London, not really knowing where he wanted to go. As he approached Holborn, he started to notice more and more small groups of people holding up pride flags, all walking towards the same direction. He curiously glanced at them, desperately trying not to stare, or at least not make it obvious.

What was happening today? Wait... it was July, was the London Pride today? His heart skipped a beat, he had never gone to a single pride event, never having the confidence to walk amongst people declaring themselves as LGBT so loudly and proudly when he wanted nothing more than be the most cis-passing person he could be, ashamed of his very nature.

Despite himself, he started walking behind two girls wearing pride pins and holding hands, curious to see where people were gathering. After a couple of minutes of walking, he started hearing the clamor of a crowd, loud music playing not too far away, streets were now full of people excitedly chatting and laughing with friends and family. George’s heart was beating loudly in his ears, drowning the chatter of the crowd. 

The busy street he was walking up led to Trafalgar Square, the plaza filled with thousands of people holding various pride flags, smiling freely.

 _Wow_.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins, he felt drunk of the almost tangible happiness in the air. 

Was this how they felt? 

Someone bumped into him and he almost fell, strong arms latching on to him to prevent him from crashing to the ground.

“Sorry handsome, you stopped in the middle of the street though, not my fault, have a good Pride!” A tall man spoke up, chuckling, removing his hands from George's waist where he had grabbed him to stabilize him.

Seeing George silent in response didn’t seem to faze the man who sent him a sunny smile, waving at him before leaving, catching up with his friends, waiting for him a couple of feet away.

George inhaled sharply, realizing he had stopped breathing completely, the interaction knocking the breath out of it.

Why were people so _nice_?

He walked around a little bit, never straying too far from the edge of the plaza, staying away from the crowd, simply observing rather than participating himself. He snapped a couple of pictures of the colorful crowd, and of the huge trans pride flag floating above a stage that had been set up close to the fountains, opposite the National Gallery.

He left after that, feeling overwhelmed by emotions and the mass of people alike, silently going back to his flat, almost an hour away on foot from where he currently was. He didn’t mind the distance though, during the past week he had come to learn to appreciate these long walks, they cleared his head and left him happier, lessening the nervous energy often thrumming beneath his skin.

The familiar sight of the street where he lived appeared almost too quickly. He inserted the key in and pushed the door of his flat open, removing his shoes and letting the door quietly click shut behind him.

He took his phone out of his pocket, settling at his desk, looking at the pictures he took for a moment. They were nice.

He opened his settings, hesitating for a second before disabling airplane mode. His phone was instantly flooded with texts, messages on every platform, notifications for a week's worth of missed tweets, missed streams, and missed calls all suddenly piling up.

He was done hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pog? not pog?  
> you tell me buddy


	4. Is this a Dream?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George calls Dream, they talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little disclaimer that english is not my first language so if i say things weird sometimes, that's why

The sudden influx of information was slightly overwhelming but George did his best to sort through it, he swiped away useless notifications, and focused on the most important things: responding to his friends and announcing his return.

Guilt filled him when he saw the progressively more and more worried tone of the messages he had received. Dream, Sapnap and a couple of others had messaged him almost immediately after he had sent out the tweet, asking him what was happening and if he was alright, and George had unknowingly ignored them, not truly believing they would even send anything at the time. Dream had tried to call him everyday, always leaving him a message after, the last one left only a couple of hours ago simply said _‘George please come back, it’s been a week now, I miss you’_.

Tears burned his eyes at the thought that people cared that much about him.

He truly didn’t think people would even really acknowledge his absence.

He swallowed back his tears and clicked the call button next to Dream’s contact name, it rang only once before he heard the sound of his friend's voice.

“George?” Dream sounded frantic and hopeful.

“Hi.” George sniffled, trying to stubbornly contain his tears.

“George! Fuck, are you okay? I was worried sick about you.” Dream’s voice trembled but George couldn’t tell if it was anger or worry that tinted his tone.

“I’m fine, sorry for worrying you guys, I just really needed a break from everything.”

“George you can’t just disappear on us like that, I almost thought you were fucking dead, if it wasn’t for your damn tweet I could have literally called the police!”

George choked slightly at that, surely he couldn’t have thought it was that bad, right?

“I’m sorry, I just… I needed to clear my head a little bit.”

It sounded stupid now that he said it aloud, he almost wanted to hang up, throw his phone away, and go back to his self-imposed isolation. Everything was so much easier when he didn’t need to talk to anybody.

“Did… did something happen? Did we, did _I_ do something wrong?”

“What?! Of course not, you didn’t do anything wrong, Dream.” George winced at the idea that his friend could have been blaming himself all week for his departure. 

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like it was your fault, it wasn’t at all, it’s just that…” he paused, “Nevermind, it just wasn’t your fault.”

“Could you maybe tell me what happened?” Dream voice was unsure, as if afraid that any misguided word would make the brunette bolt again.

George exhaled shakily, eyes roaming around his room, stopping on the small holes puncturing the wall behind his computer where his flag had been held by small tacks before he moved it above his bed.

“George?”

He jumped slightly at the call of his name, realizing he had been silent for too long, he unclenched his left hand that was gripping the phone uncomfortably tight.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me anything, George, please.”

The hurt he could feel in Dream’s words twisted his insides uncomfortably.

“Uh, you know my last stream?” he didn’t pause, already knowing Dream’s answer. “Well, I had to cut it short, ‘cause uh my… my p-parents came to visit.” He hated the way he stumbled over the last few words, how even thinking about _them_ could sour his mood instantly.

“Is that good or bad?” Dream said, perplexed.

George couldn’t hold back the huff of laughter that escaped him.

“Honestly?”

“Preferably yeah.” Dream responded drily, making the corner of George’s mouth quirk up slightly.

“Pretty fucking bad.”

George knew perfectly well that Dream wouldn’t understand him, his relationship with his family was great. Well, he had a rough few fights with his parents during his teen years, but now every time he talked about them his voice was clearly fond, he loved them and they loved him just as much.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Dream replied.

George laughed humorlessly.

“I didn’t tell you.”

And he hadn’t ever really, he had always religiously avoided talking about his parents and his relationship, or lack thereof of relationship, with them. When he had met Dream he had already moved out to go to university, before eventually moving into his own flat, so the subject wouldn’t come up often, and, when it did George would just subtly deflect the conversation to a more comfortable topic.

The silence hung heavy between them for a moment, Dream silently encouraging George to elaborate on what he had just said.

“Listen, it’s complicated, we don’t get along at all, they hate the fact that I stream, they hate that… that…'' George stopped, would Dream consider him differently if he knew he was trans? Surely not, right? The man was always supportive with everyone and had never expressed any kind of animosity towards trans people, or the LGBT community in general.

“Yeah?” Dream spoke softly, reassuringly.

George sighed, trying to calm his racing heart as his cat pawed insistently at his leg. He picked him up, putting his phone down.

“Sorry, wait a second, my cat is demanding my attention.”

He heard Dream wheeze on the other side of the phone, the light sound contrasting with the serious atmosphere from a couple of seconds ago.

“Turn your camera on, I haven’t seen him in too long.” Dream asked, seizing the perfect opportunity to also see George and make sure he looked alright.

George grumbled but complied, propping his phone against his monitor so his hands would be free to pet his cat, checking that it was pointed towards his door rather than his bed and pride flag, and switching to a video call. He watched Dream’s face appear on his own screen, the man wearing his own smiley face merch, also sitting as his desk, one leg propped up.

George used his cat’s paw to wave at the camera, raising a brow. “Satisfied?”

Dream smiled in response, “Yeah, so, uhm, what were you saying about your parents?”

“Oh, I was saying that they’re not really supportive of the whole streaming thing, they’re pretty strongly against it.” He ran his hands through his cat’s soft gray fur so he wouldn’t dig his nails in his palms like he so desperately wanted to, aware of Dream’s watchful gaze trained on him.

“But do they not know that you’re really successful now?”

George flushed, waving his left hand through the air, “Stop saying it like that, I’m not _that_ successful compared to you, you’re the one getting millions of subscribers every month or something. And they just don’t think that it’s a real job, they say it’s nothing more than a hobby.”

“You’re such an idiot, you get tons too, me getting more doesn’t diminish your own success, doesn’t change the fact that you’re definitely earning more money than with a _real job"_ , he said the last words distastefully.

George shrugged, he was pretty sure he could do anything and his father would find a good reason to hate it, nothing could make him even somewhat proud. His accomplishments didn’t matter in the slightest because it was _him_ they disliked, well what “he had become”, according to them.

“They don’t care, they would hate whatever I did anyways.” He explained, looking away from his phone screen, not wanting to see the pitying look that was surely on Dream’s face.

“Well, I’m sorry, but your parents sound like assholes.”

The brunette's gaze snapped back to the screen and he laughed nervously, his finger instinctually finding the uneven skin of the scar decorating his cheekbone.

“My father would probably kick the shit out of you if he heard you talk about them like that.”

Dream frowned, narrowing his eyes for a second, “Did he…was he the one that…” he gestured to George then touched his own cheekbone, right below his right eye, mirroring George’s action a moment prior.

George immediately let his hand fall, as if his own skin had burnt him, heart dropping.

“What?”

“Nevermind.” Dream said, afraid he went too far, eyes still carefully following George’s movements.

George anxiously stared back at him. Mind racing, wasn’t he supposed to come back and be honest? Wasn’t that the whole point of coming back? To stop hiding? What was he doing, stalling and skirting around the truth like he had done for the past few years?

He breathed in and out, silently counting down from five, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to say.

“Listen, I need to tell you something, something I should have told you a long time ago actually.”

“I’m listening.” Dream answered, leaning forward, looking worried.

“I’m trans” he raised his hand to stop any question when he saw Dream open his mouth, “Wait, let me finish, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep going if I stop now. I’m sorry, I never told you, I started transitioning when I was like 18 and I, uh, when I first met you, my voice was already starting to get deeper, then I went through the whole process without any of you really knowing and by the time you guys saw me I pretty much looked like myself now.”

“Wow, I’m... I would have never guessed.” Dream looked lost, probably trying to remember his first interactions with George.

“Yeah that was kinda the whole point Dream.”

“You know that doesn’t change anything for me right? To me you’ve always been George, and you’ll always be George, you’re my best friend, and I love you.” Dream voice contained nothing but sincerity and he was smiling gently at George.

George’s heart ached, in the best way possible, as he smiled back. He had said nothing for literal _years_ , all for nothing? He examined Dream’s face closely, the man still looked surprised but his face held no disgust, no ill intent, he was nothing but his usual self, kind words and sweet smile, his _best friend_.

“Well that’s underwhelming, you could have at least called me a couple of slurs, now I feel dumb not telling you earlier.” George joked, still not quite believing it had gone so well. He discreetly pinched himself, just checking he was awake and this wasn’t some stupid dream his brain had made up.

Dream laughed sympathetically, “Sorry, we can have a do-over if you want?”

George shook his head and chuckled freely, letting his head rest against the back of his chair as he slid down a little bit, tension leaving him. His cat moved up to play with the strings of his hoodie that the movement had made dangle in front of the feline’s face and George pet him, calming him down slightly, the cat settling back on his chest.

“That’s why my parents hate me, because I’m trans, they never fully accepted it.” George spoke quietly.

“Well like I said before, I think they’re assholes, and I don’t think they deserve you George.”

With those few words George’s walls broke down and the words finally came spilling out.

He told Dream everything: his coming out at 16, the screaming matches in his childhood house, the fateful night where his father had sent him crashing against the kitchen counter, when he had finally moved out, when he had cried in the hospital waking up from his top surgery desperately alone, no one there to hold his hand, but still happy and _free_ , when he had gotten his first flat and bought a pride flag to celebrate, tacking it to his bedroom wall as the biggest fuck you to the universe, when his family came to visit, his parents comments and how he had cried after washing the mugs they used to drink tea together, when he went outside today and stumbled upon the London Pride and the tangible happiness in the air, the _community_. He spoke until his mouth felt dry and he felt empty yet light, the burden of untold words, hidden stories finally dissipating.

Dream had mostly let him speak, only intervening a couple of time, promising he would come kick his parents’ asses whenever they were mentioned, smiling at fond memories, and mouth twisting, as if he was pained himself, at the worst ones, or even just quietly nodding along, silently seeming to say _“I’m here, go on, I’ll listen to you”_. 

George had probably never felt as grateful as he did right now.

“Well, I think ‘Fuck your family’ sums this up.” Dream said, “I’m sorry you went through this, you deserve better than them.”

George smiled at his friend’s protectiveness but cringed slightly at the word he used. “They’re my parents but they’re not _family_ , I-I don’t have a family.”

“That’s not true” Dream spoke up. “You have _me_ , you have Sapnap, you have Bad, Quackity, Karl, and so _so_ many more. We love you like family, it doesn’t matter if we don’t share the same blood, we love you just the same George. I will _always_ be there for you, fuck, I would help you bury a body if you asked me George. I want you to be happy... ‘cause that’s what makes me happy too.” He was slightly out of breath after his short monologue, voice passionate. His words had rang true to George’s ears. 

George smiled, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, “You’re so dumb, making emotional speeches and everything.”

“Aw I love you too Georgie.” Dream replied, smiling cheekily, eyes also suspiciously wet.

The tears were rolling down George’s face now, leaving hot trails on his cheeks, he wiped them away before they could land on his cat, who was looking up at him curiously, purring comfortably in his laps.

“Thank you, really. If anyone, I’m glad it’s you that I told first.” George sniffled quietly.

“Hey, who’s getting emotional now!” Dream said, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands to try and stop his own tears.

“Shut up, we look like idiots right now.”

“I love you George.”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have to say that I made myself tear up writing this, but i'm also listening to sad music, so idk which one got me
> 
> these chapters are getting longer and longer, woopsies
> 
> tell me if you liked it, tell me if you think it's shit or tell me your mother's credit card number and the three little numbers on the back kids

**Author's Note:**

> comment or leave kudos if you want!


End file.
